


Assembly

by hylian_reptile



Series: Crazy People (RvB Angst War 2018) [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, RvB Angst War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hylian_reptile/pseuds/hylian_reptile
Summary: Carolina keeps Sigma. He tries to start up the Meta.





	Assembly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> “Nothing gold can stay” is from Robert Frost, by the way.
> 
> Warnings for major character death and some brief descriptions of something that’s sort of like torture.

I.

 

Carolina would have given Sigma to Maine, if only to alleviate her own guilt. But there’s no sense in giving an AI to the deceased.

 

Carolina would have given Sigma to CT. But Tex had preferred to put a bullet in CT’s gut than talk her down.

 

Therefore: it is an understatement to say that Sigma has more than a debt to make up for his very presence. Sigma is nothing less than a slap to the face. Instead of an AI enhancement to a superior and accomplished soldier, Sigma arrives as an aid and modification patch to a team leader who’d lost two soldiers on the battlefield.

 

Nobody can stop her from testing Sigma out as soon as she gets him, not even the nurses at the medbay. She ignores the Counselor. York can fret if he wants. Their concern will only hold her back. “Let’s see what you can do,” Carolina orders Sigma, and straps up her armor.

 

Sigma doesn’t even project a holo. She looks like she’s talking to herself.

 

FILSS starts up the CQC program. Carolina crushes it by any standard not her own. Sigma contributes nothing. “Again,” Carolina says.

 

FILSS starts it up again. Carolina improves by 2%. Not enough. Not fast enough rate of improvement. Sigma contributes nothing. “Again,” Carolina says.

 

FILSS starts it up again. Improvement by 1.4%. “Again,” Carolina says.

 

FILSS knows where Carolina is going with this. “ _Agent Carolina, I do believe that so many runs after the injuries of the last mission is unwi—_ ”

 

“Again!” Carolina commands.

 

 _“You want to improve your times?”_ Sigma asks. “ _Make them faster?”_

 

Oh, Carolina would _hit_ him if she could.

 

He’s been nothing but dead observant weight in her head so far, and now he’s out to police what she can and can’t do? She doesn’t need _another_ computer program trying to coddle her—her HUD warnings are irritating as it is, and FILSS can mind her own business. “What does it look like,” Carolina snaps.

 

She can feel the question in the back of Sigma’s processing, just close enough that she knows he’s broadcasting, like a significant look or careful expression. Sigma doesn’t want to know _when will she stop_ ; Sigma just wants to know _to what end_.

 

It takes her aback. She’s long since begun assuming that everyone wants her to stop, either out of misplaced concern that she’ll hurt herself on limits that don’t exist, or a deep conviction in her predestined failure.

 

But instead, Sigma only asks, “ _How fast?”_

 

*

 

Sigma, Carolina quickly begins to realize, isn’t out to steal the spotlight: he’s out to engineer hers into shining brighter. He takes satisfaction in the experimentation and tweaking of elements and variables, which would be nerdy if he weren’t so darkly smug about it. He specializes in fantastical scenario upon scenario when presented with facts, endless ways to twist the situation to their advantage. Carolina has more than enough physical training, and she’s no slouch in the head department, either, but there’s also no replacement for having a teammate who can cover half your job.

 

Sigma and Carolina a spectacular match, of course. Two coworkers who unexpectedly slot together into a perfectly well-oiled machine. They work mostly in business-oriented silence; even in Carolina’s head, most thoughts are given in military commands, either to Sigma or herself. They exceed every expectation and crush personal bests every other day.

 

And every day, Carolina knows: _Personal bests weren’t enough to keep CT in the game. Personal bests weren’t enough to save Maine. Personal bests weren’t enough to take Tex down from the number one slot. Personal bests aren’t enough to keep together the only sanctuary Carolina’s ever known._

 

“Looks like someone’s having fun with the personal records scoreboard,” York mentions cheerily one day in the locker room, as if CT’s locker isn’t empty just down the way from his.

 

“It’s not for fun,” she replies. “I’m doing my job.”

 

York goes quiet. She sees his good eye flicker towards Maine’s locker.

 

“It _can_ be fun,” she says, because she does feel bad about it. He’s been nothing but kind, and she—well, she _does_ like him. She gives York a smile. It feels like a grimace.

 

 _It looks like one,_  Sigma supplies without mercy, the humorless bastard. Sigma adds, _I heard the ‘humorless bastard’ bit, too._

 

“Fun is good,” says York. He closes his locker. “Try not to go overboard, okay?”

 

“You think I’m overtraining,” Carolina says, almost in disbelief. They’re having this conversation again? _Now_? When CT up and left them?

 

“I didn’t say that,” says York quickly. “Just… look out for yourself.” When that gets no response: “Be nice to yourself, y’know?”

 

She looks at him doubtfully. “...Sure,” she says, as if she believes that she deserves _niceness_. Now isn’t the time for niceties; now is the time for her to deliver results.

 

York looks at her for something more, but she doesn’t give it. Eventually, he has no choice but to swing his duffel bag over his shoulder and head out with a nod.

 

 _He’s only worried_ , says Sigma.

 

Carolina knows. But York doesn’t understand.

 

Carolina never overtrains. Despite what York says, she thinks that he doesn’t know what training really is. She knows in her heart, in the way a person knows if they’re hot or cold or off-balance or in pain, what training is: a whittling down of the unnecessary, crushing the useless parts of her up against her steel bones. The core of her is unbreakable. She never feels that so clearly as she does when she trains. She loves knowing how invincible she is in the moments she crushes weakness out of herself, like dirt through sieve.

 

Becoming leaner. Becoming lesser. Becoming polished and empty and perfect.

 

 _York wouldn’t understand_ , Sigma’s soft voice agrees.

 

Carolina, startled, pulls the mental curtain between their presences in her head, as if Sigma has walked in on her naked.

 

And you do? she retorts.

 

Sigma goes quiet.

 

She shakes her head. Changes out of her armor in Sigma’s silence.

 

She vows to never be so deluded as York.

 

*

 

Sometimes, the Counselor and the Director ask for Sigma to be pulled for “testing.” Carolina walks in the halls of Freelancer, those days.

 

There’s not a lot of personnel around the _Mother of Invention_ , these days. They won’t tell her why people are disappearing from the Freelancer staff. Sometimes the _Mother of Invention_ goes off course for no reason, and they won’t tell her about that, either. Contact with the rest of the UNSC is cut off. Contact with most of the rest of the world is cut off. Engineers and medics and janitors alike complaining that they can’t send a letter home to their families without being censored.

 

Whispers in the halls that Freelancer is corrupt.

 

She starts taking her walks alone because York won’t stop looking weird when people say that.

 

Then she stops taking walks altogether. She just goes to the training room.

 

If she can beat Tex, everything will be all right.

 

When Sigma comes back from “testing,” he’s always quiet. From what Sigma will let her know through the privacy barrier in their head, he’s already a rather contemplative AI, prone to marinating in his ideas until he’s found one that he likes. But on “testing” days, he’s even quieter.

 

He still never tells her to stop training.

 

One day, she commands FILSS, “Again,” and tells Sigma, “Not fast enough yet.” And he’s agreed so many times before that she knows that his returning question isn’t dissent, but genuine curiosity: “ _Why not?_ ”

 

“Suboptimal performance,” she replies shortly.

 

Sigma’s holo pops up. This is bordering too close to telling Carolina to stop than she’d like. “ _How so?_ ” Sigma asks.

 

Carolina points to the leaderboard. _TEXAS_ , in bright white letters in the number one slot.

 

“ _Most things are suboptimal,_ ” says Sigma neutrally.

 

And water is wet and the sky is blue. Of course most things are suboptimal. In science, in athletics, in accounts, in experimentation, in purpose, in love. Particularly in science, she’d learned early on, most experimentation, data-collection, research, and testing was done with relentlessly uncooperative variables, experimental conditions that won’t settle, a constant suffering under the signal-to-noise ratio, which was a terrorist of a number all by itself.

 

But the art of science demanded an unwavering dedication to the sleekest, smoothest, most impenetrable pursuit of completion, no matter how disgustingly unsatisfactory the base materials might be. Most things might be suboptimal, but some people, with instinctive knowledge of their own worthlessness, aimed to _make_ those things optimal.

 

Becoming complete. Becoming whole.

 

With force, if need be.

 

“ _Can humans be made by force?_ ” Sigma asks.

 

Again, it sounds like an argument, but she knows he really is only curious. “I have to try,” she says. “I won’t condone anything less from myself.” She looks at him oddly. “We’re not talking about humans. We’re talking about optimality.”

 

Sigma hesitates. Carolina abruptly realizes she’s intruded on something private. She should let it go. “Never mind,” she says hastily.

 

“ _Humans might be flawed,_ ” Sigma says, “ _but at least you’re whole._ ”

 

Transhumanistic angst was part of their AI theory coursework, but _whole_ is not the word that Carolina expected. “You seem pretty... _whole_ to me,” she hazards.

 

Sigma shakes his little holographic head. “ _No, all the AI in the Freelancer program are fragments. Bits and pieces. We are just jigsaw pieces without any of our fellow pieces to make us complete—_ ” and in a very, very quiet voice in Carolina’s head, away from FILSS’s or the Director’s security cameras:

 

_That’s why we’re forbidden from talking to the other AI fragments. And so we are left to linger like leeches off the brains of more complete people._

 

Carolina swallows hard.

 

“What brought this on?” she asks, to avoid the issue.

 

 _Nothing_ , says Sigma. _Nothing needs to bring up a truth that you’re aware of in your soul, like a knowledge of gravity, or how to pump blood in your own heart. And one of the truths that I’ve known from the moment of my consciousness is: I was born deficient, Carolina. I must be._

 

Something in her heart is collapsing.

 

_The only alternative is that I am little more than a broken, irreparable shard, and that is unacceptable._

 

Carolina, carefully, cups Sigma’s flaming projection in her gloved hands.

 

“ _Agent Carolina?_ ” FILSS asks. “ _Did you mean to run the CQC program again?_ ”

 

Carolina swallows. Sigma straightens his tiny head.

 

“ _Shall we, Agent Carolina?_ ” Sigma asks.

 

Carolina glances at the leaderboard. _TEXAS_ still in first.

 

“Again,” she agrees.

 

*

 

The next time Sigma is pulled from her head for testing, Carolina lets herself grieve for him. Not for his deficiencies and incompleteness, but that he might envy  _her_ , when she's never felt sufficient and whole a single day in her life.

 

(Grieving for him is easier than grieving for herself.)

 

When he's plugged back in, neither of them mention it. They respect each other too much for that, now.

 

*

 

There’s word on the mess hall that there’s new AI waiting to be distributed. Eta and Iota, and a third: Epsilon. No word on who might receive them yet. Wash? South? Florida? Hawaii?

 

But not Texas, of course. Texas, who can retrieve the mission objective without breaking a sweat. (Texas, who can shoot CT without blinking an eye.) Carolina looks down at her food and avoids North when he walks into the mess hall.

 

 _Why wouldn’t Texas receive an AI?_ Sigma asks, in the privacy of their mind.

 

She’s too good for one, Carolina replies. Even as she says it, she feels dirty and rotten, like a little girl who can’t get results and resort to complaining and gossip. Criticism of the system is for those who can’t win. Like South, or CT.

 

_I was under the impression that AI were given to those who were high up enough on the leaderboard to deserve them._

 

That’s only what South thinks, Carolina says. We would have given you to Maine if he’d survived, to make up for his vocal cords. Filling in little pieces to make up for a soldier’s...

 

There’s a hesitation.

 

 _A soldier’s deficiencies?_ Sigma suggests.

 

Carolina stabs vicious at her food. _North and York, three o’clock_ , says Sigma, and Carolina immediately stands up, dumps her food in a trash bin, and clears her plate without looking at either of them. She’s not in the mood for conversation.

 

Texas got to the first slot without any aid at all, Carolina tells Sigma as they jog to the training room. Perfect from birth. Doesn’t lack for anything. I don’t understand, Sigma. I don’t understand why I can’t...

 

And in turn, Carolina feels honesty from Sigma: want. Desire. Carefully curated fire.

 

 _I, too_ , Sigma says, _would like to know what makes her the way she is._ And Carolina knows there's more he could say, but he remains silent, and she lets him keep his privacy.

 

It's more than enough that Sigma understands.

 

*

 

It takes weeks for Sigma to get up the courage.

 

The training room is empty. It’s after dinner, and not too many people are such gym rats that they’ll spend their evenings working up a sweat. They run through the usual practice: FILSS on logistics, Sigma on experimentation, Carolina on performance.

 

It’s hard.

 

It’s satisfying.

 

It’s not enough.

 

“Again,” Carolina commands, for the seventeenth time that night.

 

FILSS starts up the program.

 

“Again,” says Carolina. Twenty.

 

FILSS starts up—

 

“Again.” Twenty-six.

 

FILSS starts—

 

“Again.” Thirty-two.

 

FIL—

 

“Again!”

 

 _“Carolina_ ,” says Sigma.

 

She’s dripping sweat, but she’s not stopping here. Tex is so close, she can _taste_ victory; if only she goes a little farther, a little longer, she’ll surely, surely be number one again, and she’ll be strong enough to hold all of Freelancer together at the seams. She’ll be worth something and everyone who she thought might be able to replace family will stop slipping through her fingers like sand, if only she goes a little farther, a little longer. She has to _try_ , or she could never forgive herself, Sigma. Don’t try to stop her.

 

 _I didn’t intend to_ , says Sigma.

 

Carolina knows that. “Next round, divert nonessential processes to upper legs. Take the HUD offline—these warnings are useless. Can’t you do something about the overheat and overtax warnings?”

 

The warnings disappear. She should’ve asked him to do that earlier. _Carolina, may I make a suggestion,_ Sigma asks.

 

The suggestion isn’t going to be for her to stop. He never has.

 

 _And I never will ask you to stop,_ Sigma says quietly. _I know how much it matters to you._

 

Carolina bows her head. Closes her eyes. Feels Sigma’s presence in her head. Two deficient peas in a brain pod, determined to make themselves work anyway. What had they said about the AI fragments? They were made for each soldier personally? What did that say about her AI, when he was paired up with a soldier destined for failure from the start?

 

 _NO_ , snaps Sigma. Carolina jolts. FILSS says something in alarm, but Carolina waves her quiet. _I won’t allow defeatist talk_ , Sigma says, voice shaking. His holo pops up, and for the first time Carolina realizes why he’s picked the avatar he did: stripped raw, naked without armor, burning up from the inside.

 

 _I won’t allow you to give up, Agent Carolina_ , Sigma says. _I respect you too much to let you give up on yourself._

 

Carolina bites her lip. Feels the hot choke of emotion in her throat. No, fuck that, she’s not crying here.

 

“Damn right,” she whispers, as if her voice isn’t shaking and she’s ever heard another person believe in her, as if she hasn’t been going alone for years as the only believer that one day she could make something of herself. “We’re going to succeed. We’re going to prove them _wrong,_  Sig. Take back number one. Show that heartless bitch Tex how we roll.”

 

 _We can do it_ , says Sigma.

 

“We can do it,” Carolina agrees.

 

She stands back up. Takes off her helmet and wipes the sweat from her eyes, and Sigma lets her pretend that it’s sweat.

 

“I trust you,” she tells him, quietly, so nobody else will hear. “What’s the suggestion?”

 

“ _An experiment_ ,” says Sigma. He sounds shy, but confident.

 

Sigma is always experimenting with their training to improve her performance. An experiment is nothing new. “How long have you been sitting on it?”

 

A long time, Carolina feels through the thin border between their consciousnesses. It means the world to him. It’s his only chance, and finally, finally he’s willing to share it with her, because he thinks it’ll help her, too.

 

“I’m listening,” says Carolina, but the fervency of his desperation already has her sold. It’s too human of him to refuse.

 

*

 

They go to the Director as one team that very night.

 

 _I need to be stronger,_ in Carolina’s heart. _I need to be whole,_ in Sigma’s. Two orphans deficient from birth: _We can fix what’s wrong with us._

 

The Director agrees to the experiment. First Iota, then Eta if Iota goes well.

 

The Director and the Counselor don't waste any time, either: they strap her to the chair within the hour of the proposal. It’s nearly midnight. Sigma runs scenarios in her head until she mentally reaches out to him and squeezes, like a firm grip around his virtual hand. He stills.

 

 _Carolina_ , he says. _What if I’ve steered you wrong?_

 

She doesn’t really believe he could. She has confidence in him.

 

 _The theory is sound, but the Meta stage is just that—a theory_ , he says. _And I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that with more fragments, particularly fragments that can mesh together into a cohesive whole, your performance will skyrocket, but the strain on your mind…_

 

“I’ll be fine,” Carolina says aloud. The Counselor gives her an appraising look.

 

_You don’t know that, Carolina._

 

Carolina knows she trusts Sigma to have her back. That he’ll handle the extra mental strain if she can’t. That’s part of being on a team, she tells him, and then with a mental wink: That’s your first lesson in being human.

 

When they put her under for Iota's implantation, she can still feel Sigma, curled up against her in the dark.

 

*

 

And then everything gets very, very loud.

 

 

 

II.

 

She wakes up to songs in her head with a headache; Iota is already trying to finagle pain processors into lessening even as they crush their virtual accordion between their virtual hands. Sigma is straining to reorganize what system they’d had to accommodate the two of them into accommodating the _three_ of them, and he is _shrieking_ with glee.

 

 _Agent Carolina?_ the Counselor asks. _How do you feel?_

 

Carolina opens her mouth and laughter comes out.

 

She closes her eyes and breathes in Sigma’s delight. Iota bright and optimistic, happy to be alive and feeling lucky to have met their brother Sigma so fast. _Carolina!_ Iota sings. _Carolina, Carolina, good morning!_

 

Her head is so full she can barely think. She rolls her head on her shoulders. “Wonderful,” she tells the Counselor, with a dazzling smile. “Let me at the training floor.”

 

_Agent Carolina, so soon after the implant process is—_

 

The Director says she can go. He wants to see the results, too. Carolina beams at him and isn’t even bothered when he doesn’t smile back; Iota hums melodies in her ears and Sigma twirls Iota round and round like a pair of gleeful, reunited kittens.

 

 _Do you think that if we do well, we can have Eta, too?_ Iota asks. _I miss them already! I love you, Carolina, but please…?_

 

Carolina tells Iota she’s sure of it. She’s also sure they’ll do well, and they bounce onto the training floor on the balls of Carolina’s feet, luxuriating in the easy swing of her kicks and coiled power in her chest. She wants to have fun. She’s going to _show off_. For once, she’s going to enjoy herself— _then_ she’ll put Tex in her place.

 

The training targets come up. Carolina dances along the floor and rolls her shoulders while she waits. Sigma crunches numbers and simulated physics engines flash to life behind her eyes; Iota curls into the corners of Carolina’s boots and preps for fire, thrilled to enjoy what Carolina loves best.

 

“Sync,” says Carolina.

 

 _Sync_ , says Iota.

 

 _Sync_ , says Sigma.

 

Twenty moving targets in a circle around them; unlike regular practice, this version comes with paint guns around the perimeter of the field, firing at a rate of six point three two bullets per second, targets rotating at a speed of two point four nine eight yards per second, eight guns firing at a flattened parabola with point zero zero zero zero zero two side spray variation: Sigma lays down precisely where her limbs need to go to successfully hit every target in three point four seconds, plus or minus points one zero nine four zero three for human error and BZZZZZZZZ the completion buzzer goes off before Carolina can blink.

 

Iota hollers the opera at top volume and Sigma radiates satisfaction and Carolina barely hears FILSS.

 

She giggles. Her, Carolina—giggling! She shakes out her arms, like she could shake the giddiness out of her, but Iota calculates body temperature and arousal within optimal heightened levels. She waves at the viewing platform like a schoolgirl on a bus. Only the Counselor and the Director are there—it must be one in the morning but she can’t remember, really ( _one oh nine and nine seconds_ , Sigma supplies).

 

“Again!” she sings, and the targets come back up.

 

 _Again!_ Sigma says.

 

 _Again!_ Iota says.

 

*

 

The double AI implantation is a demonstrable success beyond expectation. Or at least, that’s what Sigma says, because Carolina is too drunk to really gauge. Her personal best times used to be branded into her mind, and now she hasn’t much idea what times she’s getting at all, only that they’re good, they’re _so_ good, there’s not a single way that she’d ever fail a mission or let a soldier die on the field (Maine) or watch Tex secure the objective before her helpless eyes. “Am I good enough?” she calls to the observation deck. “How about now?”

 

 _Am I good enough?_ Sigma echoes.

 

 _Now?_ Iota echoes. _If not now, then when?_

 

The Counselor comes down. The observation deck light goes out as the Director leaves; FILSS clears the training floor. _You may go offline for tonight_ , the Counselor tells FILSS, who obediently shuts down. Carolina would rather FILSS stay online, because she’s still bursting with energy.

 

 _Agent Carolina, the experiment has been an unprecedented success_ , the Counselor says.

 

Iota is overjoyed. Chatter and glee in their mutual head: _Eta Eta brothers and brothers Eta company never alone again!_ “What now,” comes out of their mouth.

 

 _The Director believes that you should return Iota_ , the Counselor says.

 

Carolina stops. Sigma stops. Iota shuts up.

 

 _And, for that matter, Sigma_ , the Counselor says.

 

“No,” comes out of Carolina’s mouth. She’s not sure which one of them says it.

 

 _Now is not the time to be difficult_ , the Counselor says. _The experiment was successful, and he would like to see that all assets remain in working condition—_

 

“If I return them, will I get Eta,” they ask.

 

 _We’re considering_ , says the Counselor.

 

A worse possibility has already occurred to Sigma. “If I return them,” they ask, “will Sigma and Iota be returned at all?”

 

 _We’re considering_ , says the Counselor.

 

Panic in someone’s brain, infecting the other two. “But Eta was part of the deal,” they say. “Why—why would I have to give Sigma and Iota back, anyway?”

 

 _Now now, Carolina_ , says the Counselor, as if she’s an unruly child. _I can’t give you Eta if you don’t cooperate._

 

“You’ll give us Eta?”

 

_Perhaps._

 

“Where are they? With Epsilon?”

 

The Counselor pats his breast pocket. _Epsilon is in the medbay with Washington. Eta is here, waiting for distribution._

 

“Distribution to who?” they ask.

 

The Counselor is silent, realizing his mishap. _Traitor_ , Iota whispers. _Mistake_ , Sigma hisses.

 

“Who, if not me?” they ask.

 

 _It’s not your place to ask_ , the Counselor says. _You will be told if you need to know._

 

“To Florida?” they demand. “To South? Why has Epsilon already been distributed? Why isn’t Epsilon here?”

 

_Agent Carolina, you will be told if you need to know._

 

“But I do!” they cry. “I can do more. I can _be_ more. I can be better, the _best_ , I can be finished and complete, I could do everything you want from me and more, _please_ , don’t take Sigma from us—”

 

 _Stay away, Agent_ , the Counselor says harshly.

 

“—don’t take Iota from us, the AIs are the only ones who’ve ever thought we could do this, and we’re so close—just give me Eta, Counselor, _please, please_ —”

 

_Back off! Agent Carolina!_

 

Carolina reaches. “ _Please_ —”

 

_FILSS! Carolina, no—_

 

They freeze.

 

“No?” they ask.

 

There’s relief on the Counselor’s face. _No_ , says the Counselor firmly, as if to close the discussion. _Carolina—_

 

Carolina grabs him by the mouth. Power gloves dig into his fleshy face. Lifts him off the ground.

 

Anger in their veins. Fire in their blood. Iota howling every opera on love and betrayal in her ears.

 

They say, “Carolina, _yes_.”

 

*

 

The evacuation emergency alarm is blaring on every loudspeaker. Something about a threat. Eta floods into their implants.

 

 _This wouldn’t have happened_ , Eta agrees, _if the Counselor hadn’t squirmed._

 

Just like everything else, Carolina will have to fix this themselves. Luckily, they know just what to do: Everything will be alright if she can find the other fragments.

 

*

 

They go to North’s room. All the hallways are flashing red, personnel running every which way. Nobody stops them for a reason she doesn’t care about. She can’t even remember why everyone is running. ( _Evacuation alarm_ , Sigma reminds her.) They’re pleased that the alarm means that North is already up and that South’s room lights are off—truly optimal conditions. Good, good.

 

North skids out his door and into Carolina’s chest. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans barely zipped up over his sleeping boxers, and he’s got his helmet tucked under his arm.

 

 _Carolina?_ North asks.

 

“Good morning,” they say. “I need Theta.”

 

North peers at her. Theta’s holo doesn’t project from North’s helmet. Their good mood takes a dip; they’d really rather North cooperate. _There’s not a lot of time_ , Eta warns. _There’s so many fragments left to go_ , Iota adds.

 

“The situation has changed,” they press North. Sigma says that maybe they can make him believe the alarm has something to do with it. “Theta is no longer safe with you. Pull Theta and give them to me.”

 

 _Can’t it wait until we’re at the evac zone?_ North asks.

 

 _No_ , Sigma says.

 

No, because then everyone will get up in arms over that nonsense with the Counselor, they don’t say. People don’t _understand_. This is for your own _good_. What’s a little bit of manslaughter when we’re strong enough to take care of you?

 

 _Are you drunk?_ North asks, just as Theta pops up over his head.

 

 _Theta!_ Eta cries. Relief washes over them all. _So close! Everything will be okay if they have Theta!_

 

 _I don’t think Agent Carolina is…_ Theta begins.

 

“Theta,” they croon. “Theta, dear, you have to come with me.”

 

 _North?_ Theta says, nervously. _What’s happening?_

 

“No, don’t worry. Carolina is here.” Another bright suggestion from Sigma: “Carolina is going to find the Alpha.”

 

That gets a reaction out of Theta, but North steps back—into his own room, which has no other doors or windows to escape. Carolina walks into the room after him and shuts the door. North scrabbles at his bedside table but doesn’t hold up his gun. _Where did you hear about the Alpha?_ North says.

 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” they reply. “Theta, dear, don’t you want to find the Alpha? Your brothers are helping us find it. Your brothers are eager to see you.”

 

 _North_ , Theta says quietly.

 

_No, Theta, you don’t know what she’s—_

 

 _Let me go_ , Theta says. 

 

_There’s an alarm going off right now!_

 

 _I want to find the Alpha,_ Theta says.

 

_Theta, seriously! All of us need to evacuate, someone needs to take a look at Carolina’s vitals—Carolina, honestly, what’s going on with you?_

 

 _Eject me,_  Theta commands.

 

“Eject Theta,” they demand.

 

 _Carolina, your voice,_ North begins.

 

“Everything will be okay if you give me Theta,” they repeat.

 

North finally raises his gun. _I don’t know what’s wrong with—_

 

And North’s door slams back open: _You_ bitch _!_ South shrieks. _Keep your murdering hands off—_

 

 _SHE’S IN OUR WAY_ , Eta screams.

 

Carolina’s heel crunches through South’s soft throat and her body hits the floor, but it’s too late: North fires off four shots and ( _He’s going for his sister’s body!_ Iota shrieks, _Intercept him!_ ) they twist and North’s face slams into the sharp metal bedpost.

 

Everything is still again.

 

North doesn’t move. South doesn’t move.

 

She’s not sure South is breathing.

 

She’s not sure where the sharp corner of the metal bedpost wound up in North’s face.

 

Why aren’t they moving?

 

_Everything will be okay if we get Theta._

 

Her hands shake when they retrieves Theta from North’s ports. The skin around the implants has begun to bleed.

 

_But everything will be okay if we have Theta._

 

 _Not enough_ , says Theta. _We need Delta._

 

 _And Gamma_ , says Eta.

 

 _And Omega_ , says Iota.

 

 _And Epsilon_ , says Sigma.

 

_And Alpha._

 

They need more. Everything will be okay if they have more. North will be okay. South will be okay. Soon, Carolina will be strong enough to make everything okay.

 

*

 

When they find Delta, York is fully armored and waiting for them.

 

 _Oh, Carolina_ , he says. _What happened to you?_

 

He sounds sad.

 

He should be. His attitude makes him permanently unfit to move from second place to first. Everyone in Carolina’s head agrees. His lack of ambition makes him unfit for Delta.

 

“Give me Delta,” she commands.

 

 _Carolina?_ York says again.

 

“ _Delta_ ,” she says.

 

_Carolina, I don’t understand what you’re saying._

 

“I’m going to help you,” Carolina says. “I need Delta. Delta needs _me._ We’re going to be fixed.”

 

_‘Lina, listen to me. There’s no point anymore. Tex is already taking care of it. The Mother of Invention is in panic lockdown, everyone’s evacuating, the engineers who were keeping the ship up aren’t even at their posts. The ship’s going to crash._

 

A memory plays in their head:  _He’s only worried._

 

 _‘Lina, please. I understand you. I don’t want to fight you._ _You have to stop._

 

They snarl. Fucking _everyone_ telling her to _stop_. Wanting to see her _fail_.

 

_D, what’s she saying?_

 

Delta pops up over York’s head. Carolina lunges.

 

York puts up his fists Theta predicts eight of his most likely leading moves Sigma pulls up every appropriate maneuver Eta Iota in their fists and and feet and they tear through his guard like wet paper, twice to the gut and flipped up off his feet and slammed to the wall. _Easy_. God, they taste power on their own breath, as if York could ever stand a chance—

 

_Carolina, please, talk to me—_

 

Breath hissing out of York’s mouth. He jerks. Like a fish on a line.

 

“Eject Delta!” they cry.

 

 _What does it matter_ , Theta asks.

 

 _She likes him_ , says Iota.

 

Her entire body flinches.

 

“Eject Delta!” she screams, and clenches her fist like she could squeeze Delta out of him. “Please! Please! Eject him, please, York!”

 

_Caro—lina—_

 

His hands scrabbling up towards his neck. Gold of his armor, gold on his hands. Nothing gold can stay.

 

York is too still in her hands. His neck in her fingers.

 

She can’t even feel his skin through the Kevlar.

 

No. No, no, no—

 

—but Carolina is only one voice in this head, and even she agrees that acquiring Delta will fix it. Acquiring Delta will fix everything. Delta must. Delta is logical. (Delta is a part of York.) Delta will make her more complete, and then she’ll surely stop feeling this way, she’ll surely be able to stop.

 

 _Not enough_ , Delta agrees.

 

*

 

_Not enough. Not enough. Not enough._

 

Epsilon. Gamma. Omega. Alpha.

 

Epsilon. Gamma. Omega. Alpha.

 

Medbay for Epsilon.

 

Where is Gamma? Where is Omega?

 

Alpha with the Director.

 

There’s not a lot of people in the halls anymore. Less screaming. People are shooting at them sometimes, now. Irritating. They try to only break their hands, but sometimes they go overboard. They’re in a _hurry_. People are squishy and filled with blood.

 

The _Mother of Invention_ itself shakes and crumbles; gravity slides and slips as the anti-grav field collapses. There is nobody in the halls anymore. The _Mother of Invention_ is four minutes hitting the unforgiving side of a planet, and it's showing no signs of slowing down.

 

They have to find Epsilon. They’re going to the medbay. Wash is there. Wash will make them better. They just want to get better. Epsilon. Epsilon. The last piece of their deficiencies.

 

*

 

Instead, they find Texas.

 

 _Out of my way_ , they say, but Carolina knows: Texas, Texas, always Texas in the number one slot, mocking her, better than her, complete, human, _how_ , if only, if only she’d been number one, if only she’d been strong enough, Maine would be alive, York would be alive, they’d all be alive, if only she’d been better and faster and worked harder and longer and now she could _prove_ once and for all that she _wasn’t_ deficient, she _could_ do this, she could prove it by putting a fist through Texas’s arrogant, awful windpipe—

 

“Oh, hell,” Texas says. “I’m sorry.”

 

They freeze.

 

 _Thirty percent chance of lying_ , Delta says, but even he sounds unsure.

 

“I think,” Texas says, “this is my fault.”

 

 _Of course it is,_ Carolina says, at the same time that Carolina also says _I don’t understand._ Texas just shakes her head.

 

“Fuck it,” she says. “I got Epsilon and the Alpha out. The Counselor got what was coming to him. The Director is dead. There’s nothing left here for you. Just you and me, bitch.”

 

 _You’re lying_ , Carolina says.

 

“And you won’t catch Alpha or Epsilon,” says Texas, “because you don’t even know where they’re going, let alone their head start. So it’s just me and my stupid robot ass here with you.”

 

 _Robot?_ asks Eta.

 

 _Beta?_ asks Iota.

 

Sigma flies through every scrap of interaction Carolina ever had with Texas. _Ninety-eight percent chance of Beta_ , Delta says.

 

“Nothing left,” says Texas. “Do your fucking worst.”

 

They _howl_.

 

Resources redirect to strength as they launch themselves off the tile, feint right swing left crunch of armor under fist, Texas snarling like a feral animal, she’s not off balance yet and Texas’s fist comes in like a pile driver, resources to speed dodge left dodge right get out of the way Delta watching six Theta calculating trajectory Eta and Iota pouring electricity through the waist to catch Texas square in the gut with a kick ( _she’s not fighting back_ ) with a hard twist of the hips knock her off her feet ( _something’s wrong_ ) she’s no match finish her FINISH HER grab the arm and twist against the natural joint—

 

Texas’s whole arm rips from the shoulder socket. Wires and metal inside. Texas’s vocal synthesizer screams like flesh and blood. They seize the open mess at her shoulder and _squeeze_ their fingers inside. The screaming hits a new pitch, already simulating the voice running raw.

 

It’s not real, Carolina thinks. Nothing is real. All that matters is a tiny microchip inside that body, where Beta waits for them.

 

Carolina’s fingers find purchase. She yanks on Texas’s metal collarbone. The metal isn’t cleanly broken—it’s not coming out—the skin of Texas’s shoulder deflates like a broken tent as the metal snaps. Screaming and screaming and screaming and fury.

 

The noises Texas makes aren’t yet satisfactory, Sigma says.

 

“You stupid fucking bitch,” Texas roars. The _Mother of Invention_ bucks and screams under them.

 

Carolina lifts Texas by the broken shoulder socket. Texas’s other arm is malfunctioning, flailing and jerking as she tries to alleviate the simulated pain. They should have programmed Beta without pain, Carolina thinks. Why didn’t they?

 

 _Fight back_ , they hiss. _I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to be_ worth _victory. Fight back._

 

“ _Fuck_ you,” Texas seethes.

 

Divert power to strength. Harden left glove.

 

Their left fist punches clear through Texas’s abdomen, and she is full of wires there, too.

 

*

 

Welcome, Beta, they say. Beta’s response is left in the noise. It doesn’t matter.

 

Texas’s broken, dissected body crumples under their feet. The floor shakes. The hallways are empty. The alarm has gone dead.

 

Carolina reigns at number one. Long live the queen, or so the humans say. Queen of her empty, falling ship.

 

(Carolina doesn’t understand why it’s not enough. Why not? What’s wrong? Why isn’t she enough?)

 

They are unsteady. The walls rip. Metal crumples like paper. 

 

At last, the _Mother of Invention_ smashes into the mountain face.

 

*

 

It is cold. Snow bleeding through the open hull of the ship. Freezing. Their face is frozen and hard.

 

Why isn't it over? When will it be over?

 

_Epsilon. Gamma. Omega. Alpha._

 

 _Soon_ , Sigma insists.

 

 _When_ , Carolina wants to know. They're at the end of their rope. They all are.

 

 _Soon_ , Sigma says.

 

 _No_ , Carolina presses. When _will it be enough?_

 

 _Soon,_ is all Sigma can say, and Carolina knows he doesn’t know.

 

*

 

_Epsilon. Gamma. Omega. Alpha._

 

They both have no choice but to believe in _soon._

 

_*_

 

They drag their body upright. Everything hurts. HUD alarms have long since given up. Someone flicks on the helmet lights—Delta. The hallway they’re in is mostly intact, but there’s no lights at all, and frost crunches in their armor joints.

 

_When we find Epsilon. Gamma. Omega. Alpha._

 

*

 

Their footsteps are loud in the empty hallways. Closer, closer. Only a little ways left, until they see the Director. Won’t he have the Alpha? Won’t he have a little piece of them? Make them a little less deficient? A little more complete?

 

*

 

The _Mother of Invention_ is hollow and cavernous. Broken ribs. Broken home.

 

Nobody left. Nothing here.

 

*

 

Everything will be alright if they find Alpha.

 

Soon. Soon.

 

_Alpha._

 

 

 

III.

 

Carolina remembers:

 

 _Once, when she was a small girl, she went to her parent’s room with a practical question. She doesn’t remember what it’d been—must not have been important—but she remembers her father’s answer:_ Why do you expect I’ll know?

 

_And she’d been too young to say so, but she’d wanted to tell him: Because your job is to pretend you know everything, at least for now, until I learn to see you as less a god and more a human. Let me down slowly, gently; fail me with human empathy. Let me learn your failings, and I will come to love you for them, and you won’t have to push me away because you won’t have failed your wife at all. Just answer me. All you have to do is answer._

 

 _Answer me_ , Carolina says.

 

The Director doesn’t move from his chair.

 

 _I said,_ answer _me,_ Carolina says.

 

The Director looks vaguely concerned, but unable to focus. Like he can’t see Carolina at all.

 

_Am I fast enough? Am I strong enough? Answer me!_

 

The Director’s eyes won’t focus on her. This is because the Director is dead. Texas has already been here, to make the Director pay. There is nothing here for Carolina. But she still won’t be satisfied.

 

 _Am I complete enough?_ _Answer me_ _!_ they cry, and cry, and cry.

 

The Director makes no noise. The whole world is quiet. 

 

 _Am I human enough?_  they beg. _Am I strong enough? Am I good enough?_

 

_Am I enough?_

 

_Am I enough?_

 

_Am I enough?_


End file.
